


And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt ...

by cinderellasfella



Series: What the water gave me [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderellasfella/pseuds/cinderellasfella
Summary: There are plenty of stories, cautionary tales of selkies trapped on the land in loveless unions. Forced to spend their days in human form, never to return home, haunted by the sea until the end of their days.Few of them speak of the ones who are followed by the shore upon their return to the water.





	And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt ...

**Author's Note:**

> Switching things up with Thor's perspective this time around. Enjoy!

The sea is different, the first time Thor slips back into its embrace. And it frightens him, more than a little.

He has made the transition before. All young selkies do, as they learn to move between sea and shore on their own. The wonders of glittering cities, intoxicating scents, grass soft as it tickles two feet, human eyes burning with curiosity and desire for a handsome, otherworldly stranger; the fleeting pleasures of the human world couldn’t be any further removed from the echoing eternity of the ocean. It can be all too easy for a young selkie to be swept away. Lir knows he hadn’t put up much resistance, he sometimes recalls with a wry smirk.

But when he returned from those first sojourns, drunk with merriment and the self-aggrandisation of youth, the shifting of bone and flesh was all it had taken for those thoughts to melt away. Replaced by sheer instinct; staying with the herd, finding and hunting his next meal, steering clear of any nearby fishermen or hunters. Anything else is borne softly away on the currents, like a ribbon of blood dissolving into the depths, until the shore begins its siren song once more.

But the sea is different, the first time Thor leaves his husband.

( _Husband_. As many times as he turns the word over in his mind, he never tires of the lightness it brings to his heart.)

It takes a few hours for him to notice the difference, thoughts filtering differently through the mind of a beast than that of a man. But gradually, images and sensations begin eddying at the outskirts of his mind.

The satisfying give of thick, floury dough under his fingers as he learns to bake bread. Walking down to the pier with the acrid tang of drying seaweed strong in his nose, eagerly waiting for the first sign of the returning fishing boats. The impressions behind his eyelids, dancing greens and purples, as he watches the fire in the evening, the reassuring weight of Steve's body curled along his side as his head sinks ever lower in slumber.

And the more memories come through, the more aware he becomes of a painful emptiness at his side, in his heart, like a sweet poison he doesn’t dare to stop drinking.

Loki sneers at the notion of it all. Mortals have never impressed themselves beyond blinkered, thuggish cattle in his brother’s eyes, and he misses no opportunity to express his contempt at Thor’s pining. _Your just reward for such a union_ , he says. Fandral sympathises, but his longing for the surface is of a more shallow nature, one for good food, revelry, and pleasurable company without expectations. The kind of things that used to ensnare his own senses, in what feels now like another life. Volstagg, with his wife and children of the sea, can’t offer much guidance, and Sif and Hogun’s kind concern can only stem the memories for so long.

He remembers the goodbyes most clearly, during those first months apart. Hands smoothing the sealskin cloak over the planes of his shoulders, tender as they tuck the collar around his neck. Eyes firmly trained on the hollow of his throat, until Thor gently tilts his husband’s chin upwards. Even through the glaze of unshed tears, Steve’s gaze is unwavering, defiant, filled with the same fire that first drew Thor from the sea.

And he finds he has nothing to say, nothing that will help in any way. All he can do is press his forehead to that of his husband (such a sweet word, and barbed with a quiet despair he has never known), trying to impart all that words could never hope to tell.

_As wide and as deep is the ocean’s embrace, so too is the hollow in my soul you filled._

_You will never be alone again, for you hold a part of me with you, wherever I go._

_You are my heart. Now and forever._

So yes, the sea is different. Or rather, as he comes to recognise, it is Thor that has changed. He grew up on tales of selkies imprisoned on the shore, long years of forced marriage spent gazing out at a home they could never return to. None have ever spoken of one whose home lies out on the land. Of all the ways he’d expected to be a trailblazer in his headstrong youth, this wasn’t quite what he’d pictured.

But for all his sense of isolation, he knows he is not alone. Back in that sleepy portside town, he knows Steve shares in his burden. That these feelings, ugly and cold as they are, are nonetheless born of the same love that brought so much light into their lives. If Steve can face this hardship in his quiet, steadfast way, then Thor can try to do the same.

So, he allows the current to carry him. It has guided countless others before him, safe and sure by the will of Lir. He will trust that the same will be true for him.

And if, on certain days, he hears the faint strains of a mellow baritone, singing tunelessly to itself as its owner goes about his day, Thor wraps himself in the memory, the sweetness amid the pain, and carries it on his way.

He knows it won’t be long until the song guides him home.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as much as I love me some angst-riddled introspection, I think these two have earned a bit of fluff and/or smut in the next installment. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Title from Florence and the Machine's 'Hunger'.


End file.
